


From Trodden Grapes

by killanine



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Basically they're both huge idiots, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018, M/M, Misunderstandings, Parent Steve Rogers, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Writer Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 11:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15169898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killanine/pseuds/killanine
Summary: Bucky's just a mildly successful novelist, trying not to die from writer's block. Then all of a sudden there's this handsome blond man named Steve, and his adorable kid. Against his better instincts, Bucky gets a crush. But this guy has a kid, and probably a wife and a house with a white picket fence, too. Bucky resigns himself to a lifetime of hopeless pining.But then Steve keeps inviting Bucky to these hangouts that seem suspiciously like dates, and Bucky issuper confused.





	From Trodden Grapes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, [maggief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggief/pseuds/maggief), who was _super_ helpful with edits, suggestions, etc.  
>  Thank you to the Cap RBB mods who organized this whole thing.  
> Also thank you to [portraitoftheoddity](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/) for your beautiful art.  
> Art is embedded in the fic, and also in the end notes.

“Staring at your coffee is not magically going to give you all the answers.”

Bucky looked up from the depths of his coffee that he was currently trying to draw inspiration from. He honestly couldn’t tell if that voice had come from someone else or from inside his own head. Maybe he was finally going insane. He really wasn’t all that surprised to be hearing voices in his head.  

A short chuckle to his right broke him out of his internal monologue. Ok, so maybe he wasn’t insane after all.

He looked over to his right, and _damn_. This man. Sunlight from the coffee shop’s floor-to-ceiling windows shone down onto the man’s blond hair, lighting it up like a halo behind his head. And it was well-deserved – this man looked like an angel. With his finger holding his place in his book, the stranger smiled in response to whatever expression Bucky had on his face. Bucky realized he’d been staring at this handsome stranger in complete silence. Shit. Was it too late to try and be suave?

“Um...I-what?”

Yes, it was much too fucking late to try and be suave.

Handsome Blond Man smiled wider. “Sorry, it’s just. You were staring at your coffee so intently. Like it has the answers to all the questions in the universe.”

Bucky snorted ungracefully. “Pal, it’d be nice if my coffee had the answers to all the questions in the universe, but all I’m asking for is some story inspiration right now.”

“You’re a writer?” Handsome Blond Man asked. Hesitatingly, as if he were afraid that guessing the wrong profession would somehow offend Bucky.

“Yes, yup. I’m uhm- I’ve been kinda stuck in a rut. Writing is hard.” Great, now he just sounded like he was whining. “Plot.” Bucky vaguely waved a hand in the air and immediately winced at himself.

“Plot.” Handsome Blond Man agreed, nodding sagely, as if he actually understood what Bucky was trying to communicate.

“Uh-,” Bucky said, intelligently.

His surprise must have shown on his face because Handsome Blond Man interrupted him. “No- what I meant was that- I’m an artist. So I know how that feels, to be stuck in a rut. Artist’s block, you know?” Handsome Blond Man shrugged.

“Writer’s block.” Bucky smiled at him, glad that Handsome Blond Man understood, glad that he hadn’t come off as a crazy guy in the corner of the local coffee shop.

Handsome Blond Man smiled back, and Bucky was silent for a moment, helpless to do anything but stare. Looking at Handsome Blond Man’s smile was a little like looking at the sunrise, almost too beautiful for words.

“What type of art do you do?” Shit, was it too awkward to just blurt that out after a silence like that?

But Handsome Blond Man didn’t seem to mind. “I dabble. My favorite is traditional art, drawing and painting, you know.”

Bucky nodded along. He realized that he wanted to learn more about Handsome Blond Man, that he wanted to know everything about him, that he didn’t ever really want this conversation to end. He kind of wanted to just sit here and soak up all of Handsome Blond Man’s sunshine, like the world’s fucking greediest plant.

“But I also do digital art,” Handsome Blond Man continued. “For that, I can sell prints of my own stuff, but I also do commissions. And sometimes when commissions for those are slow or when I’ve got artist’s block, I take commissions for web and graphic design.”

“Wow.” Bucky blinked, impressed. “That’s amazing.” Handsome Blond Man looked pleased at the compliment. “I just write in my notebook and then type it up. If I feel like mixing it up a bit, I’ll write in _blue pen_. And if I feel like getting _particularly_ creative, I’ll break out the _gel pens._ ”

Handsome Blond Man laughed aloud, looking down, and Bucky felt a rush of pride at making him laugh.

“Oh wow, gel pens, huh? Better be careful not to get too crazy there.” Handsome Blond Man smiled at him good-naturedly, and Bucky felt the corners of his own lips twitch upwards in response.

“Oh man, I haven’t gotten close to a gel pen since-” Handsome Blond Man tilted his head, clearly caught up in trying to remember, “since what, middle school?” He scrunched up his face at the memory. Bucky tried not to obsess over how adorable he looked right then.

Handsome Blond Man rested his chin on his palm. He looked lost in thought for a second.

“I wonder if I could do that? An entire piece with gel pens-” He trailed off, biting his lower lip, and Bucky couldn’t help but follow the motion with his eyes. “It would be-” Handsome Blond Man paused again, seeming to choose his words carefully. “Sparkly.”

Bucky smiled, unable to help himself. “And would that really be so bad?”

Handsome Blond Man opened his mouth to respond, but an alarm tone rang out, causing both of them to freeze in surprise.

“Sorry, sorry.” Handsome Blond Man reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and silencing it. He flicked his eyes back to Bucky. “I’ve got to go meet with a client soon.”

“Go, go.” Bucky waved his hand at Handsome Blond Man, smiling again. God, he’d smiled more talking to this man than he had this entire week. “I wouldn’t want to keep you.”  

“Yeah.” Handsome Blond Man gathered up his things and stood to leave. “It was nice talking to you. Really.”

“Thanks.” Bucky smiled, _again_ , unable to help himself. Jesus Christ. “It was nice talking to you, too.”

Handsome Blond Man made to walk past Bucky to the door of the coffee shop, but paused mid-motion.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

Handsome Blond Man sounded tentative, as if Bucky could possibly deny him anything at all, much less his name.

“Bucky Barnes.” Bucky held out his right hand and Handsome Blond Man shook it. He paused for a moment, Bucky’s hand still caught in his.

“Is your name really Bucky?”

Bucky gave a wry smile. “Well if you want to get fancy, it’s James Buchanan Barnes. But that’s quite a mouthful, and sometimes, it seems like one out of every five guys in this country are called James.” He paused, shrugged. “So my friends call me Bucky.”

Handsome Blond Man smiled back, still holding Bucky’s hand in his. Was it normal for a handshake to last this long? Not that Bucky was complaining. Nope, definitely no complaints here.

“All right, Bucky. Steve Rogers.”

Ah, now Bucky had an actual name for Handsome Blond Man. But before he could follow that thought, Steve’s phone gave a short beep.

Steve’s gaze turned apologetic. “Sorry, uh, I’ve really got to go. Uh- bye.” Steve gave a dorky little wave.

It was cute, and Bucky automatically waved back.  

Welp. Apparently he was just as much of a dork as Steve.

With one last smile aimed his way, Steve turned to walk away to his meeting. Bucky shamelessly stared at his ass on his way out.

And damn, what a view that was.

. . . . .

Two weeks later found Bucky in the same coffee shop, half dead, desperately needing his caffeine fix. He’d gotten so much more writing done these past two weeks, and his agent, Natasha, was ecstatic with him. He’d gotten a brilliant burst of inspiration, writing about a handsome blond artist who unintentionally had gotten swept up in a whirlwind of dangerous criminal activity. No, his inspiration _wasn’t_ Steve, _shut up._ (It totally was.)

Fuck. And here he was, in the coffee shop where he’d met Steve. There, in the corner, were the two tables where they’d sat and talked.

_Fuck._ And here _he_ was, pining like some lovesick teenager over a man whom he’d only fucking met _once._

“Hey, Bucky!”

Bucky turned from where he was waiting for his order. And fuck, but who would be coming through the door calling his name but the very man he couldn’t keep off his mind?

Bucky waved at him, hoping he didn’t seem too eager, like he wasn’t delighted to his very core at the mere sight of Steve.  

Steve ordered and came to stand next to him. Bucky tried to tamp down on the fluttery, gooey feeling that had taken up residence in his chest.

“Hey,” he said, as casually as he could. “How was that meeting with your client?”

“Not bad.” Steve stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I really like this client. It’s a small company, but at least they don’t ask me to work for free in return for _exposure_.”

Bucky could hear the air quotes in Steve’s voice. He wrinkled his nose in shared disgust. “Yeah, everyone knows that you can totally pay for food and rent with _exposure_ , you know?”

Steve laughed, bumping his shoulder into Bucky’s.

Bucky felt that fluttering in his chest, again.

“So? How about you? Did you get any writing done, or are you here hoping to gain inspiration from staring into the depths of your coffee again?”

“I actually, um-” Bucky paused and looked down at his feet, trying not to accidentally reveal that _Steve_ was the burst of inspiration he’d been looking for so desperately. He looked back up at Steve, noticing that he was still waiting for Bucky to finish that sentence.

“I actually did get a lot of writing done.”

“Bucky!” Steve’s genuine excitement was infectious. “That’s great!”

“Yeah, my agent is pretty happy with me right now.”

To be honest, Bucky _was_ proud of how productive he’d been since he’d last seen Steve, because _fuck it_ , writing was hard, and he wasn’t going to discount how much he’d accomplished even if he _was_ a little embarrassed at the source of his inspiration.

“I had a little bit of artist’s block, too, but I just spent some quality time with Ethan—that’s my son. He always gives me so much inspiration.”

He had a son? Bucky felt his heart sink in his chest.

God, damnit. Of course.

Steve was Mr. All-American, the epitome of your perfect golden boy. _Of course_ he had a wife and a kid and a house with a white picket fence, or whatever the Brooklyn equivalent of that was. Whatever the fuck was Bucky doing crushing on someone like Steve?

“Kids, man,” Steve continued, completely oblivious. “They come up with the strangest things.”

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to tamp down his disappointment. He hadn’t even realized that he’d gotten his hopes up until they were suddenly, brutally crushed. And this was only his _second_ time meeting Steve. What the fuck had he been thinking, getting so attached to a man he hardly knew?

“-you know?”

Bucky was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts, realizing that he had absolutely no idea what Steve had said while he was caught up in his own thoughts. (No, he was not moping, shut up.)

“Um- yeah.” Bucky hoped he didn’t just agree with something too offensive.

But it must have been the correct response because Steve just _beamed_ at him.

“Hey, speaking of groceries, um-” Steve paused for a second while Bucky blinked in surprise. He’d only spaced out for a second, when had the conversation turned to _groceries?_ What?

Steve continued, oblivious to Bucky’s confusion. “There’s a farmer’s market going on Saturday morning, not too far from here. My son and I, we go every other week or so.” Steve looked down at where his hands were resting on the tabletop, seeming to fidget a little. “I was wondering if you’d like to come along this Saturday?” Steve looked back up at Bucky through his lashes, and _damn._

It was then that Bucky realized he would agree to just about anything as long as it would get Steve to look at him like that again.

He groaned internally. He thought he’d gotten over crushing on straight guys in college. And Steve was not only straight, he had a _kid_.

“Yeah,” he said, brightly, much more cheerfully than he felt.

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Here, let me give you my number,” Steve said, and Bucky groaned internally as he was once again the target of that earnestly blinding smile.

Fuck it. Fuck his life.

. . . . .

Saturday morning saw Bucky standing in front of his closet, running his hands through his hair in frustration. What’s a guy supposed to wear on a not-date with the man he’s crushing on who also happens to be 100% unobtainable?

Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  

No.

No, it didn’t matter. There was no point in trying to impress Steve because he was straight and had a kid and probably a wife, too. It didn’t matter what he wore to this fucking farmers’ market.

Bucky rolled his eyes at his own useless fretting and reached for the closest shirt and his favorite pair of dark blue jeans. It _didn’t fucking matter._

. . . . .

The farmer’s market was bustling in the bright morning sun. Bucky, never having gone to a farmer’s market in his life, found himself pleasantly surprised at how lively it was. Maybe he should come here more often. It wouldn’t hurt to eat a little healthier, anyway. He was a grown man with a stable job, so he should probably be eating less ramen than he currently was.

“Bucky!”

Bucky turned at the sound of his name, but with so many people milling about, he couldn’t tell where exactly Steve’s voice was coming from.

“Hey, Bucky!”

Bucky turned a bit more to the left and then-

There he was, holding a chestnut-haired little boy in one arm, and waving the other in the air, probably trying to catch Bucky’s attention.

Jesus Christ. That man had absolutely no right to look like seeing Bucky was the highlight of his entire day.

“Hey.” Steve gave another wide smile. Now that Bucky was right in front of him, he could see the faint stubble on Steve’s jaw, which hadn’t been there the last two times he’d seen him. He could see the paint splotch on Steve’s white undershirt, and he could see the muscles in Steve’s arms braced against the weight of his kid. Tucked in the crook of Steve’s elbow was a teddy bear in a blue shirt with red buttons, and a black eye mask, ostensibly for his son.  

Bucky had never been attracted to men with kids before, but damn- Steve looked _good._

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky turned his smile to the little boy. “Hi- Ethan, right?” Bucky looked up as Steve gave an encouraging nod.

Ethan took one pudgy hand off his father’s shoulder and waved it in the general direction of Bucky’s face.

“Hello, Ethan.” Bucky took Ethan’s hand in his, shaking it gently. “I’m Bucky. Nice to meet you.”

“Hiiiii Buck-eeeee” The little boy drew out his vowels, and Bucky laughed, smitten.

He looked back up to find Steve staring at him with a thoughtful look on his face.

Ethan turned and patted his father on the jaw. “Bread,” he said, decisively.

“All right, all right.” Steve caught his son’s hand where it was still repeatedly patting his face. He smiled at Bucky. “I guess we’re going to get bread.”

Bucky laughed, “I guess we know who’s really in charge here.”

Steve huffed in response. “You got that right.”

. . . . .

The baker’s stand was run by a smiling man with salt-and-pepper hair.  

Steve walked right up to him. “Hi, Bruce.”

“Hi, Steve. Hi, Ethan.”

Ethan babbled happily in response, and Bucky smiled. He only got to see Becca and his niece every once in a while, since they lived out in Minnesota, and he’d forgotten how much he loved kids. They were just so carefree, so uninhibited. It was always nice to see.

“Which bread do you want, Ethan?” Steve asked, and Ethan pointed a pudgy finger at a roll of fresh croissants.

“You want a croissant? You getting some practice in for your trip this summer?”

He nodded to Bruce to indicate they wanted one of the croissants, then turned back to Bucky.

“Ethan’s going to, um, France, I think. This summer.”  

“Oh,” Bucky frowned, confused. “You’re not going with him?”

“No, his mother’s flying over to pick him up.”

Bucky nodded in understanding, although questions were running through his mind. So Steve was- divorced? Separated?  

Even though Bucky didn’t say anything, Steve must have noticed his confusion. Steve turned to look at him and sighed. The corners of his mouth turned down, and Bucky immediately felt bad for making him unhappy.

“I’m sorr-”  

“No, don’t be.” Steve cut him off, eyes wide. “It’s not _bad_ or anything. Basically- ” Steve sighed. “Basically Peggy—that’s Ethan’s mother—we were together and in love. But the pregnancy was unplanned.”

Bucky nodded along, not knowing what to say.

“We were so young, you know. Peggy was a diplomat for the UN, and she was being considered for this huge promotion.”

Steve paused, watching as Ethan stuck his tongue out at Bruce, who played along, making a silly face that made Ethan burst into giggles.

“And then we found out she was pregnant. It was totally unplanned, and in the end-” Steve shrugged. “Peggy travels a lot, you know, for her job. All over the world.”

Bucky could imagine.

“And she’s one of those people- She’s just so strong, and ambitious. And that’s not a bad thing, not at all. That’s actually why I fell in love with her. But she’s one of those people, you can easily imagine her running the world. And I just thought—I still think—” Steve paused, running a hand through his hair and turning to look at Bucky. “A kid needs stability. To be able to make stable friends. To not worry about getting carted all over the world while his mother runs it.”  

Steve smiled, a sad, wistful little smile.

“Peggy’s career was always the most important thing to her. I don’t resent her for it, not at all. But we decided that I’d have full custody of Ethan. He gets a stable home, and he gets to travel with his mom during the summers. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Steve sighed. “Even though I never planned to be a father so soon, I honestly can’t imagine my life without Ethan in it.”  

Steve met Bucky’s eyes. “Sorry, that was kind of a long story. What about you? Have you, I don’t know, got any plans for kids?”

Bucky barked out a laugh, caught a little off guard by how quickly Steve had turned the subject to him.  

“Hah, buddy. No, I don’t. First of all, I’m single as _fuck_ right now. Second of all, I’m as straight as a crooked lamp post.”  

Steve turned to him, confused.

“I’m gay, Steve.” Maybe he needed to be more literal?

But Steve still looked a little shocked.

“Is...that...a problem?” Please don’t be a homophobe. Please don’t be a homophobe.

“No! Not at all! I’m bisexual myself, so no. I definitely don’t have a problem with it.”

Wait, what? Steve was bi? Fuck, but Bucky needed to calm the fuck down. Just because Steve was bi didn’t mean he would be interested in _Bucky._ He had a _kid_. Mildly successful novelist aside, Bucky’s life was a mess compared to Steve’s. He hadn’t been able to have friends over for dinner because he only had one set of utensils, for fuck’s sake.

Steve continued, oblivious to Bucky’s internal dilemma. “I just- I just didn’t realize you were gay, that’s all.”

Bucky looked at Steve out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t say anything else. Personally, he thought his “I’m gay as fuck” vibe was pretty obvious. Maybe Steve’s gaydar was just that terrible? Or was it because he wasn’t even remotely thinking about Bucky in that way? Considering how Steve hadn’t shown any romantic interest at all, it was probably the latter.

 

They spent the rest of the morning together, enjoying the farmer’s market and trying to keep up with Ethan as the kid ran from stall to stall. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at that. Kids always had so much energy; it was rather inspirational.

Walking through the Saturday morning farmers’ market with Steve and his son felt incredibly...domestic. But Steve didn’t make any sort of move, didn’t indicate that he was interested in Bucky in any way.

That was alright. Bucky hadn’t believed that he’d have any chance with Steve anyway. First, he’d thought Steve was straight, but now that he knew Steve was bi, it still didn’t necessarily mean that he was interested in _Bucky._

Which was fine. It was just a stupid crush, anyway. Bucky would get over it in no time.

. . . . .

Bucky looked up from his laptop at the sound of his phone ringing. He picked it up and automatically smiled a little at the name on the screen.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Bucky!” Steve’s voice came out rushed and panicked. “Thank _god_ you picked up.”

“Are you ok? What’s wrong?” Great, now _Bucky_ was panicking.

“I had a meeting upstate with a client, but my train back to Brooklyn got delayed. I have no idea when I’ll be back—can you pick up Ethan from his kindergarten? Everybody else I’ve tried is either busy or didn’t pick up the phone.”

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. At least Steve wasn’t hurt or anything. He pushed back at the small part of himself that was absolutely _delighted_ that Steve would ask him. It was just a favor—friends asked each other to do little favors. _All the time._  

“Yeah, I have time. Where at?”

“Oh my god, thank you _so_ much.” Bucky could hear the undisguised relief in Steve’s voice. “He’s at the Glenknoll school at the intersection of Henry Street and Hamilton Avenue?”

“Oh, no worries. I’ve walked past that place before. I know where it is.”

“Thank you _so much_. God, Bucky. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll ring the school now and get you added to the pick-up list.”

“It’s really no big deal. What time does Ethan get out?”

“Can you pick him up at 2:30?”

“Sure thing. We’ll just hang out at my apartment after. Is that ok?”

“That would be amazing. _You’re_ amazing.”

Bucky felt his face heat up at the effusive praise.

“I’ll be by to pick him up around 3, or 3:30. Is that ok?”

“That’s fine, Steve. There’s no rush.” Bucky _liked_ Ethan _._ Looking after him for an hour or so really wasn’t much of a chore. “Don’t worry about it, really.”

“Ok, ok. Thanks again, Bucky.”

Bucky could still hear the traces of pure relief in Steve’s voice. “Just get home safe. Bye, Steve.”

“Bye, Buck.”

_Buck._ A nickname for his nickname. Well. Wasn’t that cute.

Bucky glanced at his clock. Well, he still had almost an hour to go. He supposed it was time to get back to ramming his head against the figurative wall as he fixed up this new chapter that he was supposed to submit to his agent by the end of today. Why the fuck was writing so hard?

. . . . .

Picking up Ethan from school was even easier than Bucky had anticipated. Ethan recognized him immediately and ran over to him with a loud “BUCKEEEEEE!” just like before, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile in response.

He walked the two of them back to his flat, hoisting Ethan up onto his shoulders for most of the way, and drew Ethan straight into building a pillow fort as soon as they stepped through the door.

Kids were so easy to entertain. It seemed like no time at all had passed until Bucky heard a soft knock at the door, barely audible over the sound of Ethan’s laughter, tangled up as he was in one of Bucky’s microfiber blankets.

“Ooh, buddy. You gotta let me up.” Ethan rolled over, not really helping, seeing as how he was still sprawled over Bucky’s legs. “I think your dad’s at the door, buddy.”

Ethan sat straight up. “Daddy?!”

“That’s right. You gotta let me up so I can let him in.”

“Okay Buck-eeee.” Bucky lightly bopped Ethan on the nose with his finger before twisting to undo the impressively complicated doorway to their pillow fort.

Bucky opened his apartment door and immediately stilled in surprise. Well hot damn. He hadn’t expected to be confronted with the sight of Steve in a perfectly tailored navy suit, but here he was. Staring at Steve in a perfectly tailored navy suit.  

“Hi, Buck.”

Oh, yes. Talking. That was a thing. That normal, functioning people did.

“Hey, Steve.”

“How’s Ethan?”

Bucky stepped out of the way, gesturing for Steve to come inside. “Come see for yourself.”

Steve stepped inside Bucky’s apartment, looking around at the space and smiling at the sight of the fort made out of couch cushions in the middle of Bucky’s living room.

“Ethan? You’re dad’s here. You gonna let him into our fort?”

A tuft of curly brown hair peeked out from the space in between two cushions.

“Whas the password?” Ethan asked. And as Steve knelt down to peer inside, his jacket pulled tight over his back, emphasizing the muscles of his back and broad shoulders.

Bucky sighed at the gorgeous sight. Sure, Steve hadn’t shown any interest in Bucky, and Bucky was trying hard to just be friends. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t silently appreciate the view, right?

Steve stood up, now with Ethan in his arms.

“Do you need any help cleaning up?” He waved a hand at the pillow fort on Bucky’s floor.

“Nah, I got it.”

Steve moved towards the door. “Well, I better get out of your hair. You already did so much for me today. Wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time.”

_You can take up as much of my time as you want,_ Bucky wanted to say. But he didn’t. Instead, he said, “It’s no problem. Really. Anytime.”

He helped Steve open the door, as Steve’s arms were full with Ethan.

But Steve turned around again after stepping outside. “Really, Buck. You saved me today. Thank you _so much._ I promise I’ll repay you sometime.”

“Steve, seriously. It wasn’t a big deal at all. And I loved spending time with Ethan.” He reached out to lightly poke Ethan on one chubby cheek, and Ethan giggled in delight. He looked back up at Steve. “And besides, that’s what friends are for, right?”

Steve gave a _huge_ smile. “Yeah. Definitely. Thanks again, Buck.”

“Have a nice day, Steve.”

Ethan waved at Bucky over his dad’s shoulder as Steve walked away. Bucky waved back before closing his door.

He sighed. He didn’t know what he’d expected. Steve definitely only wanted to be friends.

. . . . .

Bucky’s concentration was shattered at the sound of a phone ringing. No, wait. That was _his_ phone. That he should probably answer. Fuck. He moved his laptop to the side, shifting through piles of papers and drafts until he uncovered his phone.

_Steve._

Probably calling to ask him to look after Ethan again. Well, it wasn’t like it was a _chore_ for Bucky; he really enjoyed goofing around with Ethan. And if Steve needed a small favor, well, what were friends for, anyway?

“Hello?”

“Hi, Buck.”

_Buck._ There it was again. Fuck but he liked the sound of Steve saying his name like that.  

“Um-” Steve seemed to hesitate. “When we were at the farmer’s market. You remember when I mentioned that I was a Star Wars fan, and you said you were too?”  

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I remember that.” He wondered what Steve was getting at.

“Well, you know the new spin-off movie just came out, and I’m pretty interested in seeing it in theatres. Would you like to meet me at my place?”

Yeah, Bucky could watch Ethan for 2-ish hours while Steve took in a movie. “Sure, I’d be happy to. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow afternoon, but other than that, I’m pretty free this week.”

“Oh! Great! That’s great!” Steve sounded so relieved. Maybe he was really looking forward to catching this movie? “Um, what about tomorrow at 6? Is that ok for you?”

“Yup. I’ll be there. Text me your address?”

“Yeah, of course. Um- yeah, that’s great, Bucky. Um- I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bucky chuckled to himself. Steve seemed a tiny bit more frazzled than usual. “See you. Bye, Steve.”

. . . . .

Steve waved at Bucky as he crossed the street in front of Steve’s building.  

“Hey, Buck.” Steve greeted him with a huge smile on his face. “I’ve got tickets for the both of us, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

What.

“The movie is in twenty minutes, so I thought we could walk to the theater? It’s a nice day out.”

What.

Bucky’s confusion must have shown on his face because Steve turned to look at him, concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Umm. What about Ethan?” Hadn’t Bucky been called to babysit?

Steve laughed, and his hand came to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I got Kate—she’s a high schooler in one of my friends’ classes—to watch him. She’s watched him before, so I know they’ll be fine.”

“Um, okay.” So Steve had called him to, what, catch a movie?  

Steve turned to beam at him again, and that smile encouraged Bucky to let go of the rest of his worries.  

. . . . .

Bucky waved a final goodbye at Steve and closed the door to his apartment. He was barely able to stop himself from leaning back on it and sliding down to the floor like the besotted main character of a cheesy romance novel. Bucky bit his lip but couldn’t stop the wide smile from taking over his face. They’d talked the whole twenty minutes it took to walk to the theater, and Steve had insisted on paying for the popcorn and the sodas, even though he was also the one who’d paid for the tickets. Steve had spent the entire movie leaning into his side, muttering commentary into his ear in a low voice. Bucky hadn’t minded it one bit. Then, they’d talked the whole way home, and Steve had insisted on walking Bucky right up to his apartment door. Bucky would have thought it was a date, if he didn’t know any better.

See. That was the problem right there, wasn’t it. Ay, _there’s_ the fucking rub — he really _liked_ Steve. It wasn’t just that he was nice to look at—Bucky had been with plenty of attractive people before. The problem was that Steve was so much _more_ than that. Steve, with his dry humor, and his infectious laugh. At the end of the day, Steve was just a fucking _good person._ _The problem_ was that Bucky could easily fall for Steve, even knowing that Steve just saw him as a friend. And he’d do it, too. He’d hide his crush behind friendship and never, ever mention it, just so he could spend more time around Steve.  

Bucky knew. _This way lies suffering._ And yet, he couldn’t help himself.

. . . . .

He and Steve texted back and forth for the entire next week. Just little, insignificant things. Oh, how are you, how was your day. How’s Ethan. Oh, he’s as energetic as ever. Let me tell you about this fucking crazy thing he did the other day. Oh, I saw this cool thing on the way to the supermarket today.

In all honesty, Bucky really enjoyed talking with Steve. He loved Steve’s mild sarcasm, his offhand witty remarks, his dry, sometimes self-deprecating humor. And again, _that right there_. That was the problem.

A week passed, and the following Wednesday, Steve texted him:

_Theres this thai restaurant thats pretty much my favorite place to eat in the city_

_It’s a little hole in the wall ish, but I swear to you_

_The food is absolutely amazing_

Bucky was just about to suggest his own favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurants when another text from Steve came through: 

_Would you like to join me? Tomorrow for dinner?_

_If youre free of course_

What the fuck was this? It fucking felt like a real, honest-to-god date. But no. Steve couldn‘t be interested in Bucky like that—they were just friends.

But then again, Bucky was practically a fucking masochist when it came to Steve, so he responded:

       _I’d love to_

_Just send me the address and the time to meet_

Bucky saw on his phone that Steve was typing, and couldn’t help but be excited for their not-date.

He closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself a hearty sigh. Fuck his life, honestly. What the fuck was he doing, setting himself up for heartbreak like this?

. . . . .

Tomorrow came, and Bucky was once again freaking out about what to wear, even though it _still. Didn’t fucking matter._

_. . . . ._

Bucky arrived at the restaurant to see Steve standing outside, hands in his pockets, and immediately felt a fluttering in his chest.

“Hey, Buck.”  

And there it was again, Steve’s little nickname for his nickname. It was a stupid name, really. Bucky definitely shouldn’t have liked it as much as he did.

“Hello.” Bucky willed himself not to blush.

Steve beamed at him, looking far happier than he had any right to, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile back at him.

He looked around. “Where’s Ethan?”

“He’s at home. Kate’s watching him, again.”

“Oh.” Great, now it seemed even more like a date. Bucky wondered if Steve left Ethan at home because he thought Bucky would mind? He hoped he didn’t come off that way; he really did like that kid.

“Do you like him?” Steve’s question abruptly pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Who, Ethan?”

Steve nodded.

“Of course! I always forget how much I love kids because, well,” Bucky ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have any. But I’ve got a niece, she’s five, and I love her to bits. Sadly, my sister lives in Minnesota, so I don’t get to see them that often.” He looked at Steve. “Ethan’s a great kid, though.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Steve smiled wide, and Bucky was once again struck at the sight. He turned away to face the door of the restaurant, sighing internally at his own stupidly mushy thoughts.

The doorway of the restaurant was set into a brick wall, which featured several prominent dark stains, as well as a bit of old gum. It was a little shady looking to be honest, but Bucky trusted Steve’s judgement.

“Right this way.” Steve held open the door for him, and Bucky was again struck by just how much this seemed like an actual date.

But no, not now. This was not the time for Bucky’s wayward romantic feelings.

They entered the restaurant, and Bucky looked around. The lighting was dim, and there weren’t that many tables, but everything seemed clean. They were the only ones there besides another couple conversing quietly, and a middle-aged man nursing a drink and a book in the corner.

They took their seats at a table for two, and Bucky scanned the plastic-covered menu in front of him.

“You, know-” Steve’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and Bucky looked back up at him.

Steve bit his lip, seeming a bit- nervous? Bucky braced himself for whatever Steve was about to say.

“For the past couple years, I haven’t dated anyone, haven’t gotten romantically involved with anyone, because I’ve really been focusing on Ethan. And Peggy and I were in such a serious relationship, and fatherhood was so new-” Steve trailed off for a second before turning his eyes back to Bucky. “I just wasn’t ready for a new relationship on top of all that, you know?”

“...Yes.” Bucky answered automatically. His mind was reeling. Where- the fuck was this coming from?

Steve continued, seemingly oblivious to Bucky’s confusion. “But now, I’m rethinking that stance.”

Um...ok? Did Steve want Bucky’s input on his dating life or something?

“I always wanted a family, eventually, and I think now-” Steve paused for a moment. “I think now I’m finally ready to date again- to find someone to share my life with. But I want to go slow; I think it’ll be better for Ethan that way.”

Bucky was, simply put, confused as _fuck_.

Ok, sure, they were on their way to being good friends, but for fuck’s sake- Bucky hadn’t had nearly enough time to get over Steve yet. He didn’t need, didn’t want, to hear about the details of Steve’s dating life yet.

Especially since he wasn’t going to be any part of it, a part of him whispered, in the back of his mind.

“But no matter what, Ethan comes first.” Steve leaned forward in his seat, abruptly serious.

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with this conversation. “You’re a great dad, Steve. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Steve leaned back again, looking relieved. “Thanks, Buck.” He smiled, wide. “I knew you’d understand.”

What? The fuck? Was going on?

Bucky was so lost. Had they talked about this before? Why was Steve bringing it up now? Would he be offended if Bucky revealed that he had no idea why they were having this conversation in the first place?

Before Bucky could say anything else, the waitress came over to take their order, and Steve greeted her with another wide smile.

Maybe...this was just Steve’s way of letting Bucky know that he wouldn’t be able to hang out as much once he started dating again?

Yeah, that had to be it. Alright, Bucky could deal with that.

Though, it saddened him that he wouldn’t be able to see Steve as much. But, he reminded himself, he was supposed to be trying to get over him, anyway.

Alright.

Bucky pushed it all down, determined not to make Steve uncomfortable at one of his favorite restaurants.

He’d deal with his pesky feelings on his own, later.

. . . . .

But Bucky needn’t have worried about seeing Steve less. Throughout the next week, Steve continued to text him regularly. And although Bucky still felt like he had missed something, he wasn’t going to question it. Or bring up Steve’s dating life, or that conversation, again.

. . . . .

Bucky hadn’t really left his apartment in the past few days.

When he’d met Steve, Bucky had been staring desperately into his coffee hoping for some burst of creativity. Now, it was like he was overflowing with it. Everywhere he turned, ideas popped up, some for his works in progress, some for new stories. He barely had time to write everything down.

He had no idea _why_ it was happening to him, but these streaks of productivity were rare enough that he didn’t dare question it.

Bucky’s head jerked up, not unlike a gopher popping out of a hole in the ground.

What the fuck was that ringing noise.

God, it was so loud. So distracting. Bucky was tempted to get up just so he could take a hammer to it.

Oh shit, that was his phone.

He scrambled to find it, and after a few frantic seconds, found it halfway buried under a pile of assorted papers that he had yet to organize.

_Honestly_. This happened way too often. If he was a responsible, organized adult, he would probably figure out some designated place to stick his phone that wasn’t on his desk, where it was always getting lost under a mountain of drafts. Or maybe, _just maybe_ , he could _actually_ _organize_ the mountain of papers on his desk.

But he wasn’t a responsible, organized adult, so- Welp.

The phone had been ringing for long enough that Bucky was worried about missing the call. He didn’t bother to glance at the caller ID before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Bucky! How are you?”

_Steve._

Well, Steve was always a welcome distraction.

“Hey, Steve. Um-”

Staring at the mess that was his desk, Bucky was reminded that Steve _was_ a responsible, organized adult, a responsible _parent_ , who wore suits to meet with clients and just overall had his life together. Unlike Bucky.

“Well...I’ve been on this crazy productive writing streak, so things are going ok, I guess.”

“Oh, um-.”

Was it just Bucky, or did Steve sound crestfallen?

“What is it?”

Steve seemed to hesitate a little, over the phone. “Um, if you’re busy, you don’t have to-”

Bucky cut him off. “No, Steve, I’m not busy. I’ve just been writing, you know, being productive for once. But I don’t have any deadlines right now or anything.”

“Ok, uh- Are you free Friday?”

“Yup. Free as a bird.” Bucky cringed at himself.

_Oh god that was so fucking cheesy._ But Steve laughed at his terrible- joke? Pun? Whatever the fuck it was that came out of Bucky’s mouth just now.

“That’s great, Buck. Um- would you like to come over for dinner on Friday then? At seven? My place. Don’t bring anything, I’ll cook.”

“That’d be great! How many people will there be, is it like a party? Are you sure you don’t want me to bring anything?” You couldn’t just show up to a party at someone else’s house without bringing anything, right? Wasn’t that one of those Adult Rules that all adults instinctively knew about?

“No, Buck.” He could hear the smile in Steve’s voice. “It’s just you and me.”    

Bucky froze. _Just friends,_ he reminded himself.

“Um, yeah. Sure. I’ll be there, Steve.”

“That’s great! Um- I’m sure looking forward to it. See you, Buck.”

“Bye, Steve.”

Bucky hung up the phone, mulling over the past few minutes.

Steve sounded near-ecstatic—which perplexed Bucky to no end. Steve was _such_ a great guy to be around. Why did he always sound like Bucky made his day just by agreeing to hang out with him?

And Bucky couldn’t get their not-dates out of his head. _They. Weren’t. Dates._ But they did kind of seem like them. Or was this just him projecting his crush onto the time he spent hanging out with Steve?

Was this what friends normally did? Bucky couldn’t really say—his closest friend was probably Natasha, but she was also his agent. And, she pretty much just teleported into his living room whenever she wanted to see him. (Bucky didn’t know how the hell she got in. He’d never given her a key, and at this point he was too afraid to ask.)

Ok, so this was all probably Normal Friend Behavior, and Bucky was just projecting his stupid crush that he couldn’t get rid of. Nice to have that straightened out.

But didn’t Steve say he wanted to start dating again? Wasn’t that what Friday nights were usually for, for the romantically inclined?

And _here_ he was expecting Steve to spend less time with him, with his whole—getting back into dating—thing going on. Wasn’t that the entire point of that conversation back at the restaurant?

Bucky didn’t have anything to go on apart from what Steve had said, and what was that, exactly? That he wanted to start dating again, and his son came first? Did Steve mean anything else?

He didn’t know, and it was hurting his brain to think about it too much. He just had to remember, he and Steve were _just friends_ , and that was _completely_ _fine_.

. . . . .

Bucky took a deep breath before knocking on Steve’s door. _Friends,_ he reminded himself. _FRIENDship. FRIENDS._

He knocked.

The door swung open.

“Bucky!” Steve beamed at him, looking again, so, so happy to see him.

Were friends always this happy to see each other? Natasha sure didn’t look this ecstatic every time they met up.

Once Bucky got over the kilowatt shock of Steve’s smile, he looked Steve up and down. A dark blue button down that stretched across his chest. And his shoulders. And his biceps. Jesus, if the man flexed his chest he’d probably pop a button. And that shirt was tucked into even darker blue jeans that hugged his thighs in a way that was _probably_ illegal in Alabama.

Bucky stood in the doorway, nearly frozen in shock at how good Steve looked. For their friendly hangout.

_Friends. FRIENDS._ He tried to shout at himself, to no avail.

Steve was already halfway down the hall. He looked over to where Bucky was still standing in the doorway.

“Well, come _on_ , Bucky. Food’s waiting.”

Bucky followed, still in a bit of a daze.

The table was set for two, with two glasses of wine already out.

“Take a seat, Buck. I’ll bring the food out in a sec.”

Bucky looked at the table again. There were _placemats._ Were adult friendships supposed to be like this? Was he supposed to set out placements when he had friends over for dinner?

He didn’t even _own_ any placemats.

But then Steve returned, bearing two plates laden with pasta. He sat one down in front of Bucky. Bucky looked up at Steve with wide eyes.

“Did you _make this_?”

“Yeah, it’s a family recipe. One of my favorite things to cook.”

Ok, Bucky had made himself pasta, sure. You just boil the water, throw in a box of pasta, drain it, and dump some microwaved tomato sauce on top. But this, this looked and smelled _mouthwatering,_ and Bucky couldn’t wait to shove absolutely everything on the plate into his mouth.

But he made himself wait, not wanting to be rude to his host.

“Can I?” He gestured at his plate.

“Please, Buck. Dig in.”

And yeah, he didn’t want to wait another second. But after he took his first bite, he had to stop, just so he could actually appreciate the little piece of heaven he had just put in his mouth.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Steve.”

“What is it? Is it ok?” Steve looked at him, seeming worried, which was just fucking _ridiculous._

“Steve, oh my god. It’s so good. I don’t want to eat anything else for the rest of my life.”

Steve laughed aloud. “Come on, Buck.” He picked up his own fork. “You stick around, I can make plenty of other things for you. We can work our way through the whole family recipe book.”

God, whoever Steve ended up dating better _fucking appreciate_ how amazing he was.

Dinner passed with the same ease that all their other hangouts did. Bucky had only met Steve a couple months ago, but he felt like he’d known him all his life. He felt like he could talk to Steve about _anything_ (except his stupid crush, of course). He felt like he could completely open up to Steve, like they had been best friends for their entire lives.

And too soon, Bucky cleared his plate of _the most delicious food he’d ever eaten._

But Steve only smiled at him across the table. “Ready for dessert?”

“Did you make that, too?”

Steve laughed as he headed to the kitchen. “Yeah, I was a real big stress baker in college.”

Bucky took a moment to again appreciate how _perfect_ Steve was. Was there anything this man couldn’t do?

Steve returned from the kitchen, this time bearing two plates of pie. Just from the smell alone, Bucky could tell that this was something else that he’d have to restrain himself from just shoving whole into his mouth. And when Steve set a plate down in front of him, Bucky saw that it was topped with a single, perfect scoop of ice cream.

“Steve,” Bucky said seriously as Steve took his seat. “Why are you so perfect?”

Steve face turned a beautiful shade of red.

“Oh!” He seemed surprised. “ _Thanks_ , Buck.”

To be honest, Steve looked a little embarrassed, too. Bucky could understand getting a bit embarrassed from compliments. He hadn’t pegged Steve as shy, though. But he was just being 100% honest, here. Steve _was_ perfect.

And of course, the pie was just as delicious as the pasta. And when Bucky said so, Steve again turned red. It was adorable.

 

After dinner Steve turned to him and asked, “Wanna watch Rocky Horror?”

“Are you kidding me? _Yes_ , please.”

“Just put the dishes in the sink; I'll stick them in the dishwasher later.”

 

They sat down on the couch together. Steve took his hand, smiled at him, and said, “I'm really glad you're here, Buck.”

And then Steve kissed him.

What.

Bucky stilled, frozen in shock, before his instincts took over and he started kissing back. And when they were both breathless, they broke apart. Steve stayed close, his hand on the back of Bucky’s neck, looking _so_ content.

“Ok, so I’m definitely not complaining, but…” _how was he going to phrase this_ , “what is this?”

Steve leaned back a little bit further, but kept his hand on the back of Bucky’s neck. “Buck,” he said, his tone warm, “I know I said I wanted to go slow, but this is just _glacial._ This is our third date. We don’t need to be _that_ careful.”

What.

Bucky couldn’t choose from all the questions that were running through his head. “What- why-” He focused on the one that confused him the most: “Third date?” Wow, there went the plan for complete sentences.

“Yeah, Buck.”

“...dates?”

And then the realization hit Bucky. He scooted back from Steve with wide eyes.

“ _Wait_. These have been _dates?_ You’ve been taking me on these _dates_?”

Steve froze. “You mean...you didn’t know we were dating?”

_What the fuck, since when were they dating?_

“Of _course_ I didn’t know! We _literally never_ talked about it!”

And now Steve seemed concerned and a little bit confused. He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Don’t you remember? Our conversation in the Thai restaurant? I said that I wanted to go slow, because Ethan comes first.”

What.

Bucky didn’t know how to put everything into words. “I- I didn’t know that you meant you wanted to date _me_. I thought that you were just saying that you were ready for a relationship, you know, in general.”

Steve stilled again, seeming to mentally go over what Bucky said. And then his face fell. He looked _devastated._ He moved back from Bucky, until he was sitting on the other side of the couch. “Oh, _no. Bucky._ I’m- I must have made you feel so uncomfortable. I’m _so sorry,_ I should’ve-” Steve didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Bucky scrambled across the couch, grabbed at him, and shut him up with a kiss. Sure, Steve could’ve made that conversation more clear, but _Bucky_ hadn’t even gotten up the courage to _ask._ He’d just been planning to keep pining away forever.

And now that he was finally kissing Steve, he could see how incredibly _stupid_ that plan had been.

Steve pulled away slowly, not actually seeming to want to stop. “Um,” Steve looked down before peering at Bucky through his unreasonably long eyelashes. “Now it’s my turn: I’m thoroughly enjoying this, but what…? I thought-” Steve paused, and Bucky took the opportunity to jump in.

"Oh no. Nope. I’m not gonna be an idiot twice.” He looked Steve in the eye. “Ok, so you’re interested in me, right? Romantically.”

“Yeah, I am, Buck.”

“Ok.” Time to be brave. “I’m interested in you, too.”

Steve’s lips parted, but he didn’t say anything.

“Romantically,” Bucky added, just in case Steve didn’t know what he meant. Lord knew that there had already been enough communication issues here.

He looked at Steve’s lips, which were still so, so close. One corner was turned up in a growing smile. If Bucky was being honest with himself, Steve was probably one of the best things to ever happen to him. “And I want to kiss you again. Can I?”

Steve put a warm hand around his waist. “Yeah, of course, Buck.”

Bucky leaned in slowly before pressing his lips to Steve’s. He wasn’t going to fuck this up.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> And that's it, folks! Hope you enjoyed my first fic! Comments and kudos make my day.  
>  Also, if you liked the fic, please consider reblogging the [masterpost](https://killanine.tumblr.com/post/175631214372/fic-here-art-by-portraitoftheoddity-author-me) on tumblr! Thanks!  
>  And here's [portraitoftheoddity](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/)'s art, which was the original inspiration for this fic:


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